


I'm Not Her

by priestlys



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Canon Rewrite, F/F, May/December Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, Older Woman/Younger Woman, One Shot, Smut, age gap, book-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 10:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priestlys/pseuds/priestlys
Summary: Things heat up when Chrisjen and Bobbie share a drink aboard the Guanshiyin.





	I'm Not Her

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reimagining of Chapter 35 of Caliban's War. I kept some of the original text, but tried to rewrite as much of the scene as possible.

Bobbie rapped her knuckles against the door to Chrisjen’s quarters a couple of times and let herself in without waiting for a reply. Her hands were full and she struggled to shut the door behind her, but finally managed after a few failed attempts. 

If Chrisjen noticed Bobbie’s presence, she didn’t let on. The older woman reclined on a bed so large it dominated the room, her upper body propped up by a pile of jewel-toned throw pillows. She held her hand terminal close to her face, brow furrowed in concentration.

“I thought maybe you could use a break.” Bobbie held up the full bottle of gin in her right hand. 

Chrisjen barely looked up from the screen, but smiled at Bobbie’s offering.

Bobbie crossed the room in a few strides and settled on the edge of the bed. The mattress sunk slightly at the introduction of her weight. A few moments later, Chrisjen’s hand terminal fell silent, and she tossed it carelessly beside her onto the mattress. 

“Fucking James Holden,” Chrisjen fumed through gritted teeth.

“What’d he do now?” Bobbie asked. She passed Chrisjen the two crystal tumblers that were balanced on her left hand, broke the bottle’s seal and began to pour them each a generous portion of the liquor.

“Ganymede.” 

One word, but enough to cause Bobbie’s head to jerk to attention. “What about it?” She placed the bottle on the side table and tossed the lid after it, not bothering to screw it back on. 

Chrisjen didn’t immediately answer. She closed her eyes and took a long sip of gin. Bobbie quickly knocked back a quarter of her own drink and stared at Chrisjen expectantly. 

Finally, the older woman met Bobbie’s eyes with a grateful smile. “You remembered the lime twist.”

A flash of impatience crossed Bobbie’s features and she gripped her glass so tightly she worried the crystal might crack. 

“Oh, calm down,” Chrisjen waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing we didn’t already know. He just told everyone in the system that the protomolecule is loose on Ganymede.” 

“Shit. So what does that mean for us?”

“Well,” Chrisjen offered the marine a small smile and reached for her hand terminal, quickly flitting through a series of public newsfeeds until she found the one with the listed experts she wanted. The video buffered for a few seconds and she lifted her finger for patience.

“—totally irresponsible,” a grave-cheeked man in a lab coat and kufi cap said. The contempt in his voice could have peeled paint.

The camera panned out to include the interviewer beside him. She was young—likely not even twenty. She had short blonde hair and wore a navy blue pantsuit to indicate she was a serious journalist.

“So you’re saying the protomolecule isn’t involved?” 

The expert scoffed audibly. “Of course it isn’t. Within hours of exposure, Eros was a living horror show. In the time since the initial battle over Ganymede, there hasn’t been a single sign of a live infection on the entire moon.”

“So there isn’t any reason for panic?” the interviewer prompted.

“That is correct, Alice. Absolutely none.” The expert turned to stare directly into the camera. “The images James Holden and his little group are spreading have nothing to do with the protomolecule. That webbing is what happens when you have a binding agent leak, nothing more.”

“But he has a scientist with him. The botanist Dr. Praxidike Meng, whose daughter—”

“I haven’t met this Meng fellow, but I’d wager that a doctorate in botany makes him as much an expert on the protomolecule as it makes him a brain surgeon. The story about his missing daughter is heartbreaking, naturally. But no. If the protomolecule were loose on Ganymede, we’d have known long ago. Holden is simply spreading propaganda—fear mongering, that’s all.”

“He can go on like that for hours, talking in circles,” Avasarala said, shutting down the screen. “And we have dozens more like him. Mars will be doing the same - saturating the newsfeeds with a counter-story.”

“Okay. I’m still not following. Is this a good thing, or a bad one?” 

“A bit of both? It keeps people calm. Holden can’t keep his mouth shut and he thinks it makes him a goddamn hero. But mass hysteria never helped anyone,” Chrisjen explained, with evident disdain. “He’s a fucking moron.”

“At least he’s on his own ship,” Bobbie murmured as she took another drink. 

“What’s your point?” 

“He’s on his own ship—in control. And we’re not,” Bobbie replied, her tone more defensive than intended.

“Okay, so we’re all fucking morons. Good for us. What else is new?” 

Bobbie tossed back the rest of her gin with a grimace. She slid the empty glass onto the side table the bottle occupied and moved to her feet. She walked a few paces across the room, turned on her heel, and walked back. Chrisjen poured them each a new drink, but Bobbie just continued pacing, lost in thought.

“For fucks sake, sit down. You’re making me anxious,” Chrisjen ordered, exasperated, after Bobbie had made a dozen or so passes around the room. 

“The situation with Holden. What do you want me to do about it?” Bobbie asked quietly. She stood next to the bed, towering over the older woman even more than usual. 

Chrisjen laughed humorlessly. “Nothing. What could you possibly do about it? You’re stuck out here with me. I can hardly do anything, and I’ve got friends in high places. You’ve got nothing. I appreciate the sentiment, but for now I’ll just settle for a conversation where I don’t have to wait two minutes for someone to interrupt me.”

Bobbie waited for anger to come after such a dismissal, but it never did. Instead, all she felt was a strange, detached emptiness. She stared past Chrisjen to the bamboo panelling without seeing the older woman. The sharp lines blurred, leaned towards fuzzy. Bobbie recognized that she was shutting down—dissociating, actually—but she could do nothing to stop it. 

“That…wasn’t fair,” Chrisjen said quietly, after a long moment.

“If you say so,” Bobbie replied. She sounded as though she’d been put on autopilot. 

“Well, I fucking say so,” Chrisjen bit back, not missing a beat. 

Bobbie shook her head as though clearing away cobwebs in her mind. She wasn’t fully present—at least not yet—but it was an improvement. Chrisjen suppressed a small sigh of relief.

“Was that an apology?” Bobbie countered, raising an eyebrow. 

“As close to one as I’m giving right now.”

“I feel so honored, madam,” Bobbie replied, saccharine sweet, placing a hand over her heart in a show of mock gratitude. She plucked her tumbler from the side table and returned to her pacing, taking a sip every time she turned on her heel, like clockwork. 

Chrisjen, to her credit, did not engage further. Instead, she pushed her lower body further down the bed and fell back against the pillows with an appreciative sigh. She balanced her drink on the flat surface between her breasts and neck, flinching minimally when the cold glass touched her skin. 

A few minutes passed. Bobbie paced, drank, and paced some more. Chrisjen closed her eyes, but did not sleep; her mind was far too wired to allow any real rest. She thought of Holden and Praxidike Meng and the missing four year old, Mei. She thought of the protomolecule, doing whatever it was doing in the atmosphere of Venus. She thought of Arjun and his kind eyes, of Cotyar - his failure to keep Charanpal safe, and how she hoped he wouldn’t repeat that particular mistake with her.

Chrisjen’s eyes opened just as her mind completed the puzzle she hadn’t known she was solving. She laughed bitterly, earning a look from Bobbie that was equal parts inquisitive and demanding. 

“It’s nothing that’s actually funny,” Chrisjen offered, wishing Bobbie would just let the whole thing go and return to her pacing. No such luck.

“Try me,” Bobbie said lightly. She returned to the bedside, kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the mattress, elbowing Chrisjen with a degree of playfulness. “Move over.”

Chrisjen picked up her drink and shifted a couple of feet towards the center of the bed. She waited for Bobbie to get situated beside her before speaking. 

“You remind me of my daughter.” 

“Yeah?” Bobbie was curious to see where Chrisjen was going with this. She rolled over onto her left side, propping her head up with her forearm. 

Bobbie focused on the rise and fall of Chrisjen’s chest as she waited for the older woman to elaborate. 

“My son died when he was 19,” Chrisjen said quietly. “Do you remember the Callisto Insurrection?”

Bobbie nodded as best she could while laying on her side.

“He was killed by a group of Belters. An OPA faction. Cotyar was his partner on the mission. He underestimated the Belters, and it cost Charanpal his life.” 

For a moment, Chrisjen was back home, watching the military transmission declaring Charanpal’s death. She could smell the incense Arjun had been burning at the time, taste the tea that had lost its flavor midway through a sip. 

“Cotyar told me that,” Bobbie admitted. “No details, though.”

“I almost got divorced three separate times in the next six months. Arjun was a saint, but even saints have their limits. We fought constantly, about everything and nothing. But my daughter suffered the worst.”

Chrisjen took a deep breath, willing herself to continue. 

“One night, Arjun and I came home from some event or other. We got home late, and we’d been fighting. Ashanti was in the kitchen, hand washing dishes with a cloth and this terrible abrasive cleanser. I have no idea how long she’d been there. Her fingers were bleeding, but she didn’t seem to notice, you know? I tried to pull her away, to stop her. She started screaming and she wouldn’t stop until I let her resume washing. I was so blinded by anger that I- I couldn’t see. I hated my daughter. In that moment, I hated her.”

Bobbie mulled over her words for a long time before speaking. She knew that she might very well be the first person Chrisjen had ever shared that with, and kept her voice soft.

“Chrisjen, I’m so sorry,” Bobbie began, but Chrisjen waved her hand dismissively.

“I didn’t tell you that story to invoke sympathy.” 

“Okay,” Bobbie tried again. “What about me reminds you of her?”

“You can’t compromise,” Chrisjen said simply. “You can’t see things the way I tell you that they are, and when I try to make you, you go away.”

“Is that really what you want?” Bobbie asked, the disbelief in her voice toeing the line towards anger. “You want me to just smile and nod and agree with whatever you say, and if I don’t, you’ll- you’ll hate me for it?”

“God, no. Of course I want you to call me on my bullshit. That’s what I pay you for. I’m only going to hate you for the moment,” Chrisjen explained, as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world. “I love my daughter very much…”

Silence hung in the air just long enough to be uncomfortable. Bobbie sat up and swung her legs to the side of the bed. She grabbed Chrisjen’s glass and filled it again along with her own. 

Bobbie twisted back around and held the fresh drink out to Chrisjen, allowing their fingers to brush against each other. Bobbie did not release her grip on the drink. Chrisjen didn’t pull away either. 

When their eyes locked, Bobbie finally spoke. “I’m sure you do, ma’am. But I’m  
not her.” 

Chrisjen made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “No. You’re not, thank fuck.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Bobbie pulled her hand away from the tumbler and shoved Chrisjen playfully, without any real force.

“I think I’ll just let you interpret my words however you’d like,” Chrisjen replied with a sly smile. The lightness of Bobbie’s tone was infectious, and as she took another sip of her drink, Chrisjen realized that she felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. Now she rolled over onto her side to face Bobbie, careful not to spill her drink. “I’m scared shitless, you know,” Chrisjen said, her tone conspiratorial. “Absolutely fucking terrified.”

“It’s going to be alright, you know. Cotyar and I will take care of you. Keep you safe.”

Chrisjen laughed once, full of mirth, and shook her head. 

“Now what?” Bobbie asked sharply, confused and not a little wounded at the perceived dismissal of her abilities. She turned away and made to get off of the bed. Chrisjen’s hand closed around Bobbie’s wrist and the marine recoiled, trying half-heartedly to shake Chrisjen’s grip, without success. 

“Bobbie, stop. I’m not laughing at you. Will you just wait a goddamn minute and let me explain? For fuck’s sake.” 

Bobbie stopped struggling but kept her head turned away defiantly.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“Okay,” Bobbie replied, turning her head but still refusing to meet Chrisjen’s eyes. “Then what is it?”

“You want a list?”

Bobbie’s face softened. She even smiled. Chrisjen felt herself smiling back. 

“I’m scared that I’ve already been outplayed. I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop the hawks and their cabal from using their pretty new toys. But mostly? I’m afraid I might be wrong. What happens, Bobbie? What happens if whatever the hell that is on Venus rises up and finds us as divided and screwed up and ineffective as we are right now?”

“I don’t know,” Bobbie replied honestly.

Chrisjen’s terminal chimed. She released Bobbie’s wrist and picked it up. A note from Admiral Souther. Chrisjen had sent him an innocent note about having lunch when they both made it back to Earth, then coded it for high-security clearance with a private encryption scheme. It would take her handlers a few hours at least to crack it. She tabbed the message open. It was plain text. 

LOVE TO.  
THE EAGLE LANDS AT MIDNIGHT.  
PETTING ZOOS ARE ILLEGAL IN ROME.

Chrisjen laughed loudly, robust and with real pleasure this time. Bobbie shot her a confused look, so Chrisjen held the screen up for her to read it. 

“What does that even mean?” 

Chrisjen leaned over, close enough that her lips brushed Bobbie’s ear. At such an intimate distance, the big woman smelled of clean sweat and the cucumber-scented emollient that was in all of Mao’s guest quarters. 

“Absolutely nothing,” she murmured against Bobbie’s ear. The marine shivered, and Chrisjen felt a small surge of pride at her ability to still elicit such a reaction at her age. “He’s just following my lead, but they’ll chew their own tongues out guessing at it.”

The words themselves were utterly innocuous, but their delivery was not. Bobbie had been around Chrisjen long enough to know that the woman rarely did anything by accident, and she cursed her body internally for its betrayal. The room was suddenly entirely too warm and Bobbie felt the blush high on her cheeks. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt bone dry.

“Bobbie?” Chrisjen pulled back just far enough to see the look on the other woman’s face, feigning innocence. “Are you alright?”

“What?” Bobbie squeezed her eyes shut tightly and tried to focus, but by the time she regained her bearings and gritted out a strained, “uh huh,” Chrisjen wore a smug grin. “You’re fucking shameless. You know that right?”

“So I’ve been told,” Chrisjen practically purred. “Once or twice.” She drained the remaining contents of her glass and made a show of using her whole body to reach over Bobbie to grab the now more than half-empty bottle of gin, allowing the weight of her breasts to brush Bobbie’s own. 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Bobbie groaned, exasperated.

“Oh, stop being such a goddamn drama queen and pass me your glass.”

“I'm not a fucking drama queen,” Bobbie huffed, even as she complied.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Chrisjen countered. She filled both of their tumblers and opted to pass Bobbie the bottle to deal with rather than repeat her earlier routine. 

“If you’re trying to bait me, I’m not falling for it.” Bobbie took a sip of gin and relaxed, settling into the pillows. She stared up at the ceiling but watched Chrisjen in her peripheral vision. 

The other woman reclined on her side, facing Bobbie, with her legs lazily half tucked under themselves. The emerald green sari Chrisjen wore had ridden up to just above the knee. Knowing Chrisjen, it could just as easily be deliberate as accidental.

“You’re the one who walked into my cabin toting a bottle of liquor,” Chrisjen pointed out. “If anything, maybe _you_ were trying to bait me.”

“Oh no, you caught me,” Bobbie deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “You’re straight and _married_ , Chrisjen. Why would I torture myself like that? Jesus.”

Chrisjen laughed heartily at that, and Bobbie, realizing the implication of what she had just revealed, wanted to sink into the floor. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she added quickly, but the words were out and there was no taking them back. “And I don’t appreciate being mocked, thank you very much.”

“I’m not mocking you,” Chrisjen said quietly. She slowly moved hand to cover Bobbie’s own, “Really.”

“Then tell me what was so fucking funny.”

“How about I show you instead?” 

“Fine.” 

Chrisjen reached out and tucked a stray lock of Bobbie’s long, dark hair behind her ear. She pressed her palm against the marine’s cheek, gently guiding Bobbie to face her. 

Bobbie could feel her heartbeat hammering in her head and time slowed to a crawl as she watched Chrisjen lean towards her. The logical part of Bobbie’s brain screamed at her to do something, anything. She was well aware of what a profoundly bad idea it was to allow things to continue on their current trajectory, but couldn’t find the will within herself to protest.

Chrisjen’s lips met her own, and Bobbie’s eyes fluttered shut. All remaining common sense went out the window and she felt the paradigm shift as she allowed her instincts to take over. Bobbie pulled Chrisjen towards her with both hands, and Chrisjen’s lips parted in a low, throaty moan. Bobbie took advantage of the moment, introducing her tongue to deepen the kiss before rolling over to straddle the other woman. They remained until Bobbie pulled back, leaving them both gasping for air. 

“Wow,” Chrisjen breathed softly, her eyes wide as saucers. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Bobbie teased.

“For chrissakes, Bobbie. Shut up and fuck me.”

Bobbie blinked several times in rapid succession and seemed to regain a sense of her surroundings. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she offered quietly, but made no move to disentangle herself.

“Oh, stop,” Chrisjen huffed indignantly. 

“You’re _married_ , Chrisjen. And as much as I hate to admit it, having sex with me wouldn’t be fair to him. This was a mistake.”

“Do you really think I’d have initiated anything if it would hurt Arjun?” 

“I- I don’t know,” Bobbie winced.

“I think you do.” 

Bobbie didn’t answer right away. Chrisjen heaved a weighty sigh.

“No. The answer is _no_ , Bobbie. So can you please for the love of god stop guilt tripping yourself and just kiss me again?”

Bobbie took a deep breath, and finally nodded.

“Good. Now come here,” Chrisjen prompted. She wrapped her arms around Bobbie’s neck and pulled her down into a chaste kiss. “It’s okay,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against Bobbie’s. “I promise.”

Bobbie bit her lip and nodded again, this time with more conviction. “Okay,” she affirmed, as much to herself as Chrisjen. “Okay,” she repeated. 

Chrisjen locked eyes with Bobbie and offered her a kind smile before kissing her again, more deeply than the last but still gently. Bobbie finally seemed to relax. She moved her mouth away from Chrisjen’s and began pressing light kisses down her neck, frowning slightly when her mouth reached fabric. She pulled away, staring at the complicated outfit.

Yards of shimmering, viridescent silk lay between Bobbie and her ability to continue touching Chrisjen’s skin, and she had no clue how to remove the garment. Bobbie looked up, finding only a challenge rather than help on the older woman’s face. Chrisjen pushed her away and rolled to the side of the bed. She stood, shooting Bobbie a pointed look. 

Bobbie hesitated for a moment, then shakily got to her feet. Her heart beat harder against her chest as she stepped close enough to catch a whiff of sandalwood and vanilla. Chrisjen smiled enigmatically and took Bobbie’s hand in hers, pulling it to her, palm up. Bobbie groaned as Chrisjen scraped her teeth gently over the pulse point at her wrist before releasing it. 

Bobbie’s eyes were glued to Chrisjen’s mouth and it took her a long moment to realize that Chrisjen had pulled up the fabric that was draped over her arm and placed it in Bobbie’s open hand. 

She redirected her gaze to the supple material and began to unwrap Chrisjen like a sort of gift. Bobbie slid the expanse of fabric off of Chrisjen’s forearm and followed the trail of it until she stood behind her. She paused there, running her fingers along Chrisjen’s spine and over the tiny button hooks that held the blouse together. She dropped the wrap and bent her head to kiss the back of Chrisjen’s neck, smiling as she was rewarded with a shiver. 

Bobbie made quick work of the hooks, finally exposing Chrisjen’s back and bra. She ran her hands along Chrisjen’s ribs greedily, cupping her breasts underneath the blouse.

“Of course you’re wearing matching lingerie,” Bobbie muttered, pulling Chrisjen against her chest.

“Would you expect anything less?” Chrisjen shot back. 

“Fair enough.” Bobbie found Chrisjen’s hardening nipples through the lace of her bra. She rolled them between her fingers, eliciting a low moan that Bobbie felt ripple through her entire body. Heat pooled between her thighs and she bucked against Chrisjen’s captive body, squeezing her breasts a last time before regretfully sliding her hands out. 

“Would you hurry the fuck up?” Chrisjen hissed through gritted teeth. 

Bobbie circled back to Chrisjen’s front, pulling the cloth down over her shoulders. “It’s not my fault you wear complicated clothing.” 

Bobbie was relieved to find that the sari was simply folded and tucked in at the hip. With a final tug, the whole thing came free. Chrisjen let the blouse slide down her arms and the entire outfit pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but scant emerald lace. Bobbie marveled that the whole thing was held so precariously together, and yet Chrisjen wore it the same way Bobbie wore her power armor. She smiled with the newfound knowledge that if you knew where to apply pressure, it all came apart. 

Bobbie stepped forward and reached around to unclasp Chrisjen’s bra. She tossed it aside and eased the smaller woman back onto the bed, resuming her trail of kisses over Chrisjen’s collarbone and down her chest. 

Chrisjen pushed against Bobbie’s head in an attempt to force the marine further down her body. Bobbie growled and grabbed both of her wrists in one hand, slamming them onto the pillows above Chrisjen’s head. 

“I see you prefer to be in charge,” Chrisjen teased. 

In response, Bobbie sank her teeth into Chrisjen’s nipple. Chrisjen yelped, unintentionally biting her own lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Yep.” Bobbie ran her neatly trimmed nails down Chrisjen’s sides, leaving angry pink lines in their wake. “Is that a problem? Because I can stop…” 

Bobbie sat up, causing Chrisjen to whimper at the loss of contact. She feigned disinterest but began undressing, quickly shedding her tank top and sports bra.

“Well?” Bobbie asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

“No,” Chrisjen gritted out with a petulant glare. “Not a problem.”

“Good. Didn’t think so.”

Bobbie crawled backwards on the bed, spreading Chrisjen’s legs and settling onto her knees between them. She raked her eyes appreciatively over Chrisjen’s body, taking in the soft curves and smooth, tan skin. Bobbie met Chrisjen’s lust darkened gaze with an almost primal intensity and a sort of electricity passed between them. 

Bobbie leaned down and sank her teeth into the inside of Chrisjen’s left thigh. The spot would likely bruise, but when Chrisjen cried out, it was decidedly not in pain. Bobbie licked the bite mark soothingly, moved her mouth an inch or so further up, and did it again. She repeated the actions over and over, establishing a slow, teasing rhythm. By the time Bobbie reached the apex of Chrisjen’s thigh, the older woman was a writhing mess beneath her. 

“Please,” Chrisjen rasped.

Bobbie shivered at the raw desperation in Chrisjen’s voice, turning her attention to mirror her pattern on Chrisjen’s other thigh. 

“Please,” Chrisjen moaned desperately, “Please. More!” 

Chrisjen’s pleading was the most erotic thing Bobbie had ever heard. It was like a switch flipped inside of her, urging her into action. She pulled back just long enough to tug the green satin underwear down to Chrisjen’s ankles and poised herself above the newly exposed thatch of dark pubic hair, glistening with the evidence of Chrisjen’s desire.

“Jesus Christ you’re wet,” Bobbie whispered, inhaling deeply. 

Bobbie lowered her head and began to run the flat of her tongue slowly up and down Chrisjen’s slit, revelling in the taste of her. Chrisjen’s hips twitched at even the light contact and Bobbie, encouraged by the reaction, gripped them for better leverage and doubled her enthusiasm.

Chrisjen whimpered, muttering an almost constant stream of expletives as Bobbie took her clit into her mouth, sucking lightly as she teased the bundle of nerves in and out of its protective hood. 

“Need… you… inside me,” Chrisjen managed between ragged breaths. 

Bobbie shuddered, feeling a rush of desire pool between her own thighs. She adjusted her position and took a deep breath, sliding two fingers into Chrisjen. She began maneuvering them in and out at a steady pace. Chrisjen moaned deeply and rocked her hips in time with Bobbie’s thrusts.

“H-harder!” 

Bobbie added a third finger, slamming as forcefully into Chrisjen as she could manage. She shoved her free hand into her own underwear, rubbing frantically, and took Chrisjen’s clit back into her mouth. 

Chrisjen’s eyes squeezed shut and she muttered incoherently, her tone a high pitched whine.

Bobbie’s forearm began to ache, but she knew Chrisjen had to be close. She pushed through the pain, increasing the speed of her thrusts. Finally, Chrisjen shook and came with a strangled cry, clenching around Bobbie’s fingers like a vice grip. 

The adrenaline from getting Chrisjen off coursed through Bobbie’s veins and she unceremoniously slid her fingers out of Chrisjen’s cunt and flipped over onto her back, pulling the older woman on top of her.

Chrisjen immediately drew Bobbie into a heated kiss, biting her lower lip as she slid her hand between their bodies and into Bobbie’s underwear. Chrisjen’s deft fingers slid easily through Bobbie’s wetness before finally settling on her clit. Bobbie’s hips bucked, and she arched into the touch.

“That’s it,” Chrisjen encouraged. “Just like that.” 

Bobbie moaned loudly, locking eyes with Chrisjen.

“Come for me, Bobbie,” Chrisjen rasped. “Come.”

The words were enough to drive Bobbie over the edge. She tensed up then shuddered violently, mouth open in a silent oh as the orgasm washed over her, leaving her gasping for air. 

After helping Bobbie ride out the aftershocks, Chrisjen gingerly slid her hand out of Bobbie’s underwear. She maintained eye contact as she slowly and deliberately brought her hand to her face and licked her fingers one at a time. Chrisjen offered Bobbie a long, leisurely kiss and rolled off of her, back onto the bed. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, letting out a low whistle.

Bobbie suddenly burst out laughing. She wasn’t sure what exactly she found so amusing, but she couldn’t seem to stop, and soon there were tears in her eyes. 

“Is it my turn to ask what’s funny?” Chrisjen asked, trying in vain to suppress a yawn. 

Bobbie shrugged and shook her head, finally managing to calm down. She reached over to turn off the lamp and slid an arm under Chrisjen’s shoulders, pulling the small woman against her. They laid there together, exhausted, the room silent save the low hum of the air recyclers. Soon, Chrisjen’s breathing evened out and she began to snore quietly. Bobbie smiled, filled with affection, and closed her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first smut I've ever written, so constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. I worked on this fic for two months on and off, and what started as a short PWP took on a life of its own and became nearly 5,000 words. Whoops. Also, excuse the somewhat abrupt, cliche ending, I ran out of ideas, lmao.
> 
> Many thanks to the wonderful [musicin68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicin68/pseuds/musicin68)! She wrote the first draft of the sari removal section, offered edits and suggestions, and listened to me whine and moan for weeks. Bless you and your infinite patience.


End file.
